PRELUDE TO HER DARK MIRROR

     I’ve lost all fear of being betrayed. I have lost all fear of being abandoned. I have lost all fear of being homeless. I’ve lost all fear of having no place left to turn and no place left to go. I’ve even lost all fear of death itself.

You dressed me up because I’d snubbed you. You dressed me up in a cowgirl outfit and made me dance with you because she’d gone to the dance hall with someone else.

With another of your many affairs, you took me out and bought me a tight-fitting outfit, again at a cheap dress store, because Lilly would be at the study-group, get-together with her husband, and you wanted her to see you had a beautiful woman at home.

You threatened to blow up my world if I threw you out, and yet years later you threatened to make me homeless. And when you had a new girl to whisper to. the same words you'd whispered to me, "I’ve got you, baby, I’ll never let you go"—you threw me out, knowing I had no place left of my own. After all, you had been the one to help me get rid of my things, and you'd helped me to give up my home. Yet you still made me go, though I’d never done the same to you in all those years—all those times I when I should have.

I’ve hidden in closets to escape your wrath, and I’ve taken refuge behind locked bathroom doors, praying you wouldn’t break in. I’ve sat in despair while you forced my bedroom door open, in spite of all the furniture I had placed in front. I’ve lied to cover bruises, and I’ve bled internally from the damage you'd done, and you weren’t done with me. No, you couldn’t be done until you could make me out as the bad one, the crazy one who wouldn’t leave you alone. You knew I loved you, and you used my love to bring me down.

Well baby, I’ve crawled across glass for every ounce I’ve gained since then, and I’ve lost all my fear along the way. I’ve come to know that if I hadn’t been so afraid of being betrayed—I’d have never been afraid of you at all….

Most of all—you will get to watch me be wildly successful at everything you sought to destroy. You will get to watch me be the successful author you said I’d never be. You will get to watch as I live wonderfully—every dream you tried to trample into dust. You did your best to shatter those dreams, so I think it’s fitting that all the things you swore I sucked at are the things that raise me up. Every time you turn a corner and find me there, doing well, I want you to remember the very last thing you did to me—when I was down and out…. 

I’ll forgive you some day like I forgave you all the rest. Keeping grudges only gives you power, and you don’t have that right…but I will never give you the love you so willingly threw away. And I feel sorry for you—because you’re the one who’s going to miss my love.

Isn’t it funny how we never appreciate what we have—until it’s gone?

Bet it drives you more than a little crazy that I have the peace you’d never let me know. And when I laugh, I'll remember you tried to take that too. Too much joy always seemed to irritate you. I will live each day with joy, knowing that if you hadn’t thrown me out—I'd still be right there shaking, watching your face, all twisted with hate, and listening to every disgusting word you’d scream….

You didn’t deserve all the years I stood beside you, even while you brutalized the love I never tried to hide. Still, you have spared me anymore of the rage that eats at you—and for that I’m thankful we finally, really are—through.

You never deserved—me. And baby, I’m finally home.

Wallowing is how negative energy keeps us lost and confused. Wallowing keeps us stuck, unable to let go, unable to forgive others. But we must also love ourselves just as much, forgive ourselves, which we often find so much harder to do. When we let go, we go forward. This way, we remove the dam to our emotions and allow our emotions to flow through us, the way it was meant. Emotions are meant to move, the way the river moves. Life is not meant to be stuck, like a pool that becomes stagnant. When we let go, we remove the burdens that wear us down. We release the past. And, in doing so, we release the heavy, dead energies that keep us tied down and prevent us from feeling the pure joy that is our birthright. ~Lenore Wolfe

Overcoming Crisis

Seven years ago, I was in crisis. I had just left my eleven-year relationship. I felt like my world had ended, and to make matters worse, I had allowed myself to be severely abused in the relationship in every way, physically, emotionally, mentally. I hadn't left myself any reserves to overcome such a crisis.

I slid downhill at a dangerous speed, going from panic attack to panic attack. I had always imagined that losing your mind would send you into oblivion. A few times, I had even welcomed that oblivion. But this wasn't oblivion. This was terror. This was the most horrible nightmare imaginable.

I didn't want to die, but I couldn't imagine living this way. In the middle of my horror, I would unravel, feel amazingly terrified of coming apart and reach like a drowning victim for anything that looked like a lifeline.

I had never liked drugs, and I'd made the mistake of self-medicating with alcohol once before in my life. I knew that it would only make matters worse. So, I reached for anything but drinking to help me feel better. The doctors gave me Xanex, but even a sliver of one made me feel strange. So I did the one thing I had learned in my Shamanic studies instead. I headed for the river, often several times a day.

I did so every single time it got too much to handle. I would sit on the rocks by the river and stare at the world around me. I couldn't imagine how grief could turn everything around me technicolored. It was like all the color had been sucked from my world. I would pick a rock, and I would let all the terror and horror that had happened flow from me into that stone. And when I didn't have a drop left inside me, I would let the river have my grief. Every day, I did that. Over and over again, I did that. Until, slowly, ever so slowly, the pain became just a little less. It would be a long, long time before I would begin to feel right--but it was a beginning.